


Oh, I Think I've Found Myself a Cheerleader

by Marvels



Series: Stydia Oneshots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Canon Universe, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvels/pseuds/Marvels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia goes out for the cheerleading squad and Stiles thinks she must be messing with him. But god, that cheer uniform... (tumblr prompt)</p><p>Title taken from "Cheerleader" by OMI.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, I Think I've Found Myself a Cheerleader

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt from [georgia-peach-baby](http://georgia-peach-baby.tumblr.com): Lydia becomes a cheerleader and stiles becomes protective cause lydias uniform is all tight and short and of course she wore a push up bra and stiles basically drools when he sees her (established relationship).

Stiles told her that it might be a bad idea. He told her that they were busy enough running for their lives. He told her that there would be no chance in hell that she could balance all of the ever-growing branches of responsibility in her life.

Lydia, true to form, had ignored his attempts to dissuade her. In retrospect, Stiles wondered how much her contrary nature had driven her decision. Because it seemed like every time Stiles told her to do something, _anything_ , she refused to comply in some sort of fit of pride and spite.

Her inability to follow directions had found her in more lethal situations before, to be sure. Every time it happened, he’d try to give her a proper lecture about “not doing stupid shit just because you think it’s fun to piss me off.” But somehow, every freaking time, the girl had found her way out of trouble with strategically administered kisses and the shapely curve of her body fitting in against his chest and hips.

He’d only made it past her seduction tactic twice in the past. The first time was when she’d drunkenly called Jackson to let him know that “Stiles called you a dick and said that he could pro’lly take you in a fight.” That time, he hadn’t made it past her seduction because of anger. Rather, he refused to take advantage of her when she was significantly more drunk than he was. He’d found her antics more adorable and hilarious that time, but had hastily ended her FaceTime call when Jackson started asking for “that asshole Stilinski.” When he lectured her that time, she’d been giggly and he had an extremely difficult time not breaking his strict and serious persona. She’d fallen asleep in his bed and in his arms.

He felt like that time didn’t really count the way that the second time did, because the second time, he’d been _pissed_. She hadn’t been allowed to come to a big face-off between Scott’s pack and an enemy pack. Naturally, she went anyways. She would’ve gotten herself killed by one of the enemy wolves if Kira hadn’t stepped in, crackling with electricity, slicing at the offending wolf with her katana.

That night, he had fought with her for hours. She’d tried to talk him down with her perfectly made-up lips and fluttering eyelashes, but he hadn’t given in. By four o’clock the next morning, they’d agreed that she would stop doing stupid, dangerous things just to piss off Stiles.

To her credit, this act of spite wasn’t dangerous. But to Stiles, it was pretty stupid. Of course Lydia was attractive. He’d known that forever. But she was also smart, well dressed, and decidedly removed from the “team spirit” culture of Beacon Hills High School. There was no way in hell she had time for it either.

Even after she informed him, with unbridled excitement, that she’d made the squad, he doubted that she’d actually follow through. But as days turned to weeks, Lydia stayed with it. He would drive her home after his lacrosse practice and her cheer practice. She’d happily explain the best and worst parts of her practice alongside him. If he didn’t know any better, she was doing this because she liked it, not just to spite him. He kept his lecture ready in his back pocket anyways.

Then the day of their first lacrosse game came around. Lydia had worn a maroon t-shirt emblazoned with the school’s logo and bold letters announcing her status on the cheerleading squad. Stiles had ogled at her as she walked into the school in _jeans and a t-shirt_ , and he continued to watch her, mouth agape, for the entirety of their first period class.

“You should try not to stare so much,” Lydia told him as he trailed her out of Chemistry. “I’m still dressed better than you are.” Stiles had narrowed his eyes teasingly at her for that, but still watched her as she left. This was starting to look less like a ruse and more like she was actually enjoying herself.

Scott brought it up when he met up with him heading to lunch.

“Um… dude. I know you think she’s just trying to like, rub this in your face, but I think she’s actually doing this because she likes it,” Scott said, his tone incredulous. Stiles shook his head.

“No way. This is all a big act,” Siltes said indignantly.

When Lydia cruised into the cafeteria, she was walking with a couple of other cheerleaders, but she waved goodbye to them as she headed to sit down with Stiles and Scott. Stiles realized with shock that the top half of her hair was now tied up and adorned with a maroon and white ribbon. Even Stiles could tell how tacky it looked, and he raised his eyebrows as she came over to sit down across from him and next to Scott.

“Nice ribbon,” he commented, his tone intentionally antagonistic and dripping with sarcasm. She gave him a slight smirk and a shrug.

“Thanks.” She replied sweetly, opening up her Vera Bradley lunch bag and pulling out her turkey wrap. Scott and Stiles exchanged looks, and Stiles leaned in, eyes narrowing.

“I know you’re doing this just because I told you not to. I’m onto you. I don’t know why you’re putting all this effort in to just annoy me. You know this is dumb. Just give it up, and I won’t give you too much grief about it,” he challenged her. Lydia looked back at him with an extremely annoyed expression, putting her wrap down, back into her Tupperware, sealing it up.

“Stiles, I don’t know why you’re trying to fight me on this. I’m actually enjoying this, having normal friends again. If you’re going to be an asshole, I’m going to go sit with them.” She shoved her wrap back into the lunch bag and strode off towards the herd of cheerleaders across the lunchroom.

Stiles felt slightly perverse for watching her leave with wide-eyed admiration; those jeans were very flattering, and staring at her legs and behind while she walked away proved much more gratifying than their little spat. Scott snapped his fingers in Stiles’s eye line, looking disapproving.

“Dude,” Scott reprimanded. Stiles turned his attention back to his sandwich and chips, shrugging sullenly.

“Okay, maybe I was wrong,” he grumbled. “If she’s really loving it at the game tonight, I’ll apologize.” Scott sighed and rolled his eyes with exaggerated annoyance, but didn’t press the issue further. 

* * *

 The game came soon enough, and because it was on a Friday, everyone and their mother were there. Stiles kept an eye out for the cheerleading squad as he warmed up, waiting to catch a glimpse of Lydia. When the squad finally did emerge just before the first whistle, Stiles was brutally reminded of one of the little components of being a cheerleader: the uniform.

Lydia was dolled up and adorable, her curly hair in a high ponytail with the same red and white ribbons that she’d worn at lunch. But Stiles wasn’t really looking at her hair. Instead, his eyes were glued to the form-fitting two piece uniform that she was wearing.

The cropped tank top part of the uniform went down to her waist, leaving her midriff bare, pale and slim under the stadium lights. The top part of the shirt wasn’t any better for Stiles’s focus. It was cut in a generously low v neck, showing ample cleavage, and if Stiles was correct, his girlfriend had the nerve to wear a _push-up bra_. That was bad news for him.

The bottom half of the uniform was a short, pleated skirt of maroon and white, and it hardly left anything to the imagination. He could see a sliver of the built-in maroon spandex shorts under the skirt, but even that left the lower curve of her ass visible. Stiles gawked openly at her, and she gave him a sweet, uncertain smile from the sidelines. He returned the look goofily, almost standing straight up out of his athletic stance.

Stiles was brought back to earth by the referee’s shrill whistle, and he shook his head, staring back at the field, trying to drown out the vision of his girlfriend rocking a polyester, maroon uniform. He never thought he’d have to do that while playing lacrosse. It certainly added a new level of complexity of the game.

He scored near the end of the third quarter, and as he trotted back to his restarting position, he allowed himself to look back over at Lydia, something he hadn’t done since the first faceoff. She was cheering along with the rest of the squad, but her eyes were locked in on Stiles and she was beaming. Stiles grinned back at her, deaf to the whistle being blown from the center of the field. Subsequently, he was decked with one of the most brutal hits he’d encountered since his freshman year. From the sideline, he heard an irate voice yelling from the sideline.

“Isn’t that a foul? What the hell?” Lydia was decidedly un-cheerful amongst the rest of the cheerleaders, and she was glaring at the player who had hit Stiles. He was wearing the number 12, and he looked pissed to have a cheerleader yelling at him while the play was continuing on down the field.

“Someone make that bitch shut up,” the opposing player growled towards no one in particular. It was just loud enough for Lydia and the rest of the cheerleaders to hear, but the other girls pulled Lydia back into their ranks. It was difficult to tell whether they were comforting and shielding Lydia or protecting the other player from the ass-kicking that Lydia was promising the guy under her breath.

Stiles had heard too, and his blood boiled at the words. They might have been bickering that day, but no one talked about his girlfriend that way. _Nobody_. But the play stopped before Stiles could get back to his feet, and he was sent off the field to be checked by an athletic trainer to make sure he wasn’t injured or concussed. The other kid had seemed almost remorseful about the hit as Stiles was helped off the field, but he didn’t say anything, instead he jogged back down the field to his teammates.

Stiles was cleared by the trainer to return to the game for the fourth quarter, and when he did, he matched up against #12 again for the first faceoff. The guy gave him a little smirk.

“Was that crazy chick your girlfriend?” He asked, voice low.

“Shut up,” Stiles shot back under his breath. He wouldn't look up into the kids face. It would reveal the anger boiling under his skin.

“She’s kind of hot when she’s not yelling stupid shit at the ref,” 12 said, clearly enjoying that he was getting under Stiles’s skin.

“Don’t talk about her,” Stiles growled. The other guy actually laughed.

“Maybe when I kick your ass a second time, she’ll be able to figure out that she’s got a boyfriend just as stupid as she is,” the kid taunted. “I think she might even start dating me. I might take her, she seems pretty easy-“

At that point, the ref dropped the lacrosse ball and with a surge of adrenaline, Stiles absolutely trucked over the other player, winning the faceoff and passing the ball back to Scott. When 12 laid out on his back, still stunned, Stiles looked down on him without sympathy.

“You don’t talk about her that way. You don’t talk about _women_ that way, period.” Stiles jabbed his lacrosse stick in the kid’s direction as he made his demands. “Take your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.” He then jogged off to catch up with the game, glancing over at Lydia out of the corner of his eye as he did so. It was pretty much impossible for her to have heard him over the din of the game and the crowd, but she seemed to understand what had happened. She gave him an extra bright smile, her gratitude palpable from across the field.

They won by a landslide in the final quarter, with Scott netting two last minute goals to secure their victory. Even with the eruption of cheering from the hundreds of fans in the stands, Stiles was sure that he could pick out Lydia’s voice among them.

When the players were released to talk to their parents and friends before hitting the showers, Stiles was immediately met by an enthusiastic Lydia, who landed a kiss on his lips the second that they were close enough.

“Great job! I’m so proud of you!” Lydia squealed enthusiastically, hugging him tightly despite the sweat soaking his jersey. Stiles returned the hug with a smile, finally allowing himself the chance to properly appreciate her cheerleading uniform. As Lydia pulled out of the hug, she gave a wry little smile at his expression, raising her eyebrows inquisitively.

“I like your uniform,” Stiles managed to splutter. He heard Scott and Liam laughing from somewhere behind him, and he turned around to shoot them dirty looks. The two werewolves muffled their laughter at that, and glanced around him from their position afield.

“You look great, Lydia,” Scott called out, and Liam gave her a thumbs up and gave her a corny wink, barely containing his laughter. Stiles turned back around to face her, rolling his eyes, knowing that both of the guys had been able to hear the sudden elevation of his heart rate.

“That guy who hit you…” Lydia started, trailing off to invite his explanation. Stiles blushed deeply and scratched the back of his neck.

“Umm… you were… you looked really good. And it was sort of…” His eyes darted down towards her ample cleavage. “… distracting.” Lydia was practically radiating smug satisfaction.

“Good.” She replied. Then her expression turned quizzical. “But what did he say to you that made you hit him back in the last quarter?” Stiles shrugged.

“He said some unsavory things about you.” He muttered, meeting her eyes for only a moment before looking back down at his cleats. Lydia seemed genuinely surprised by that, clearing her throat awkwardly before speaking again.

“Well… thank you,” she said, her voice apologetic and grateful at the same time. He looked back up at her and was surprised to see her blushing.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He replied. “Douchebags like him need to learn that just ‘cause a girl’s wearing a… well, it’s a sexy uniform, Lydia, I’m not going to mince words.” Stiles admitted, pressing his lips together, raising his eyebrows and shrugging all at once. “He can’t think he can talk about anyone like that, especially you.” Lydia’s expression was surprisingly amused.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head slightly.

“Well now I feel bad,” she started slowly. Stiles continued to stare her down, suspicion creeping back up within him.

“Why?”

“Well… I’m not going to be a cheerleader for the whole season,” she admitted smugly. “I just needed to really hammer it home that _you don’t get to tell me what to do_.” Her voice became dangerously assertive, but Stiles just threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Really?” He asked incredulously. Scott and Liam were choking and hunched over laughing behind him as if they hadn’t been fooled by her act too.

“Yeah. I talked to the girls on the squad about it, told them that I had a boyfriend who needed to learn a lesson, and that even though I was pretty bad at cheering, they let me practice and cheer with them today,” she said, a small giggle slipping into her voice. “Girls have each other’s backs like that. So I guess I wasn’t lying about that part.” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face irritably.

“You know this means we’re going to have to fight about this now, right? God, Lydia,” Stiles whined, glaring at her. Lydia gave him a fake pout and grabbed the front of his jersey, pulling herself onto her toes to kiss his cheek. She hovered there for a moment after, her lips still brushing the hollow beneath his cheekbone.

“Or, we could do something else...” she whispered, intentionally leaning further into him, her breasts pushing up against his chest. He swallowed hard and shook his head mutely in protest. She sighed deeply.

“Let’s just skip the part where you pretend that you’re _not_ falling for this one again,” Lydia crooned.

“No-ope. Nope. Still gonna lecture you,” Stiles stuttered, willing himself not to look down at the flattering cut of her uniform, instead focusing on her face, which was still twisted up in a self-satisfied smirk. She bit her lower lip, acting like she was thinking hard about his response. Stiles swallowed hard as she wrapped her arms around his neck, only pressing into him further, and almost causing him to fall back. He had to grab her by the bare contours of her waist to keep her at bay, but found it almost impossible to let go once he was holding on. He was losing. Badly.

“You know… Even though I’m quitting cheerleading now, I don’t have to return the uniform until next Monday,” Lydia said. “I could wear it to your… _lecture_ tonight.” Stiles closed his eyes, letting out a low moan, laced with frustration and longing.

“Fine. _Fine_ ,” He said grudgingly through his teeth. She smiled and pressed a gentle, victorious kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated, trying to push down his irritation and reluctance with the crushing weight of his desire. But when they pulled apart, he gave her one last stern look.

“But afterwards… you better be ready for the lecture of a lifetime.” Lydia gave him a patronizing smile and kissed him sweetly on the lips before releasing him and taking a few steps away. She then froze, looking over her shoulder and finding Stiles staring after the back of her skirts like it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. He flushed magenta when she caught him staring, and ran a quick hand through his hair in feigned nonchalance.

Lydia snickered to herself before calling back, “whatever you say, Stiles.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this please consider leaving a comment or some kudos! If you like my writing style in general and you want some more Stydia oneshots written, feel free to ask for them as prompts on my [tumblr](http://mccallsy.tumblr.com/ask)! 
> 
> (Just as a general note, I'm not into writing any graphic smut/ porn with plot, and I struggle a lot with future!fics, but still if you have something that you really have your heart set on, talk to me about it!!)


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